• About
  • Recipe Index
  • Daddy Oh

an everyday life

an everyday life

Tag Archives: Soul Care

What’s love got to do with it?

11 Sunday Jul 2010

Posted by Janell in Home Restoration, Life at Home, Prayer, Soul Care, Writing

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Everyday Life, Prayer, Self-Knowledge, Soul Care, Writing

Is it my fault that I’m better at starting projects than finishing them?

The more I live, the more I realize that fault has nothing to do with it.   The simple truth is that I’m okay with unfinished business.   Tying up loose ends, for me, is analogous to eating canned spinach, something I might do, only because it’s good for me.

I’m not one who needs closure.  If I’m not enjoying a television show, I’ll just walk out of the room.  Sometimes, for the rest of its television shelf life.  But  while I don’t need closure, that’s not the kind of world I live in, either here at home — with a husband who happens to love decisions and lining up ducks in a row —  or in this great big beautiful world, where we pursue high school diplomas, college degrees and all sorts of certifications.

If my husband were here, looking over my shoulder as I write, he would be nodding his head in agreement.  My husband loves to have a plan to execute, while plans for me, are nothing more than one possibility.  Life was once tense until we figured out we each  regarded “plans” differently.  Now when I causally mention a movie I might like to see “this afternoon,” he knows I’m only dreaming out loud, that I’m not really making definite plans to go buy tickets and sit in a theater.

Pity my poor husband who believes in the holiness of made beds every morning and a well-ordered kitchen.  Though I finally bought in to his way of thinking on the bed, my kitchen is never orderly when I’m in the business of entertaining with food.  My wonderful husband has cleaned up my kitchen messes since the beginning days of our marriage, where it seems my goal is to dirty every bowl and pot in the kitchen.  Almost twenty-five years into our marriage, we each, by now, know our roles and lines:

I apologize for the mess and say, ‘Thanks, Honey,” as sweetly as I can.

He in return smiles, shrugs and says with matter-of-fact acceptance, “That’s my job.”

It’s good to know and accept our lot in life.  And perhaps it begins by knowing and accepting ourselves (and each other) for who we are…. and for who we are not.  It begins with knowing ourselves, followed slowly by self-acceptance, followed by a steady diet of prayer, mostly of the canned serenity variety:  God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.

This thread of thoughts is helping me sew up one large loose end that has been hanging and dangling in the wind since Daddy died.  When Daddy decided it was time to tie up loose ends here, I was in the midst of writing a research paper, a  final requirement to complete  my spiritual direction coursework.  But after-wards, words and thoughts wouldn’t come, no matter how much I wanted them to.  The writing part of me  just shut down for a while, that’s all.

But tying up loose ends is very much in my business plans right now.  Both at my sister’s place as well as completing that final bit of writing for class.    Words are finally coming and I’m so happy I could weep.   I go to bed thinking about the project and wake up with new ideas.  Then I write.  Steadily.  I’ve almost got a first draft.

I’m writing on a subject that has attracted me for more years than I can count,  with an eye toward how self-knowledge (specifically, knowing our spiritual type) ties into spiritual direction.  The coupling of spiritual direction and self-knowledge is as old as the hills, of course.  It’s scattered upon most every page of the Bible, from Eve to Noah to Moses to Jonah to Peter to Paul  to Doubting Tom.  Dick and Harry too, I imagine, though their stories never made it to print.

Spiritual direction and self-knowledge are natural  companions, in any encounter between God and humans.  Even beyond the pages of the Bible, we find in  the fourth century B.C. writings of Plato that everyday Greek saying, “Know Thyself”, said to be one of three inscriptions carved into the walls of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi.  The apparent wisdom lying beneath this Greek proverb was this:  seekers had to first know themselves before they could properly apply guidance received from Apollo’s mouthpiece, the priestess called the Pythia.

Then and now, self-knowledge is good soul food and a good meeting place to encounter God.  Tying up loose ends has evolved into a spiritual practice for me, for there is always something of God in it when I’m picking up a loose end.  God knows that loose end will be tied strictly out of love for others:  My husband;  My children:  My sister.

And speaking of my sisters… in that photo at the top, showing my sister’s newly renovated kitchen, where Sis is busy preparing for her first dinner party and I’m busy snapping photos…. well… about those lovely kitchen cabinets.  Would you believe me if I told you that they’re not quite done.  They need another coat of paint.

But just between us — aren’t they pretty anyways?

Love Waits

27 Sunday Jun 2010

Posted by Janell in Far Away Places, Life at Home, Prayer, Soul Care

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Everyday Life, Prayer, Soul Care, Travel

Somewhere in the churchyard of St. Paul’s cathedral, my husband sits in Sunday afternoon, waiting for his London hotel room to be prepared.

Further east, my youngest son Kyle lives in Sunday evening, waiting to go to bed to prepare for his fourth week of teaching in southeast Asia.  I was able to hear a bit about his new life, during a 20 minute phone call last night — though I must confess that hearing the sound of his voice was just as good as hearing the news he shared.

Meanwhile, here I sat at home, a West living in the West, who waits in Sunday morning.  For what do I wait?

I wait for Max to get well.  Our standard poodle Max has been suffering a stomach upset from a bug picked up at doggie daycare this week, where the dogs went to play while our house was receiving a new roof.  One of his canine sisters brought home the bug and now each has suffered the same ailments, with Max having last rites.

I wait for today’s family lunch, where remnants of family will gather around a local pub for lunch and a visit.  It is always good to sit in the midst of people I love best in the world — to see their faces, their smiles; to hear their voices and snippets from their lives.  I will try to enjoy the ones I’m with — rather than mourn the absence of those further afield.

I wait in prayer as Bryan, Amy and Amy’s sister Emily pack and load a moving van full of Bryan and Amy’s furniture.  Soon, all their ‘must-haves’ for everyday life will find their proper place in the “new” vintage apartment that lies just a hop, skip and a jump from here.  I pray for an injury-free transfer, for furniture is so very heavy and bulky.   I pray for safety in driving an unfamiliar moving van.  And sometimes I pray for something that I can’t quite name, though it rests near the lump of my throat.

All of these thoughts about waiting make me realize that much of my life is spent in a state of waiting.  For the most part, mine is not an anxious, stress-filled waiting but rather an attempt to ride through the moment, to see how everyday life will unfold, to see where I will be carried by the river of God.

I’ve learned there is a spirituality of waiting, something picked up from the writings of Henri Nouwen, that I encountered as a first-year student of Heartpaths Spirituality Centre.  Henri introduces his reflections on waiting with words that paint a familiar scene:

“Waiting is not popular.  In fact, most people consider waiting a waste of time.  Perhaps this is because the culture in which we live is basically saying, “Get going!  Do something!  Show you are able to make a difference!  Don’t just sit there and wait!”  For many People, waiting is an awful desert between where they are and where they want to go.  And people do not like such a place.”

Waiting can be difficult.  Sometimes, I want to know how “it” will all end.  And I want to know “it” now.”    The reason is fear, of course, as Henri points out later in his writing, and my wish for certainty rather than “lumps in my throat.”  Where fears are related to wishes, hope is related to trust, Nouwen teaches.

While I endeavor to wait out everyday life in hope rather than fear, I wait in the company of love, which makes up for many sins and shortcomings, at least in my book.   And how wonderful to know that someone, somewhere, is waiting for us.  How wonderful it is to know that we are missed when we become separated by time and space.

Does God miss me, I wonder.  Does God wait for me to return “home?”  I’d like to think ‘yes’  — though here’s hoping that heaven can wait too — at least for a while.

Parting Gifts

29 Thursday Apr 2010

Posted by Janell in Life at Home, Soul Care

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Death, Everyday God, Everyday Life, Parents, Soul Care

I can’t sleep.  My  mind is whirling with thoughts and images of the last few days.  I need to park them somewhere and here is as good a place as any.

Dad died Sunday.  That you know.  Leading up to the moment of Dad’s death, it was a hard three days.   It’s difficult to watch a loved one suffer.  But even in the laboring for life and death, there are gifts of grace.  These I wish to record for posterity.

The first occurred Saturday afternoon.  My brother and sister had gone out to bring back lunch, leaving me behind.  Dad liked having someone sit on his bed, someone to hold his left hand.  So this was where I was — holding Dad’s hand through the scary parting.

Dad’s eyes were open.  It had been almost two days since he had closed them.  Most of the time, Dad fixed his eyes on some faraway point.  I followed his gaze more than once to bump into the popcorn ceiling above his bed.  His gaze seemed to extend beyond what I could see.  I feel certain of this, for twice, once with Christi on Friday afternoon and another with all of us Saturday morning, Dad pointed toward the ceiling.  With his free right hand reaching up, index finger extended out, Dad pointed at specific spots on the ceiling, his hand moving from right to left.  Christi asked Dad, “Do you see Mom?”  “Do you see Pugsley?”  “Sherlock, maybe?”  The last two were favored dogs, and anyone who knows Daddy, knows how much Daddy loved his dogs.

On Saturday, as Dad was gazing out beyond the popcorn ceiling, I leaned down to Dad’s face, and whispered, “Daddy, I wish I knew what you are thinking — and what you are gazing at so intently.  But since you aren’t able to share with me, I have something important I need to share with you.”

Looking back on it, I’m surprised at how quickly my words wrestled Dad’s attention back to me and this wonderful world in which we call home. Dad squeezed my hand, as if to let me know that he was ‘all ears,” his way to let me know that he was ready to listen when I was ready to talk.

“Daddy.  I don’t know what tomorrow will bring.  But if death should come to separate us, I want you to know that the love we share will never die, that the love we have for one another will flow into eternity.  The other thing I want to say is this:  Daddy, I will watch over Christi and Jon for you.  I will do my best to support them through the ‘thick and thins’ of life.  But I know I won’t support Jon with money.  Your experiences have taught me that gifts of money hold no solutions for Jon.”  At this, and at one point before, Dad squeezed my hand.  I felt at peace and sensed Dad’s peace as well.

I had thought that would be my final gift to Dad.  I was wrong.  That came yesterday, when I put aside my introverted nature, and presided over my father’s funeral.  It was too important to leave in the hands of one who didn’t know him.  So with the help of my four children, who each took a part, with the help of my brother, who collected a set of old tunes that my Father loved, and with the unscripted memories of more than a handful of others, including my sister who shared her own, we said goodbye to Daddy.   We paid tribute to the man I liked to call “best daddy in the world.”

A few came up afterwords to say how proud Daddy would have been of me.  But here’s the thing:  Daddy was always proud of me, even when there was no reason to be and even when there was reason not to be.   It will be this that I will cling to in the days ahead.  And maybe this Louis Armstrong song, which began Dad’s graveside service yesterday.  For truly, we live everyday life in a wonderful world.  Our time here is short.  But surely that other side — the one that lives beyond the popcorn ceiling– is wonderful too.  At least, based on Daddy’s witness.

← Older posts
Newer posts →

“Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? — every, every minute?”

-- Thornton Wilder, "Our Town"

Enter your email address to receive notifications of new posts.


prev|rnd|list|next
© Janell A West and An Everyday Life, January 2009 to Current Date. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given.

Recent Posts

  • Queen of Salads
  • Sweater Weather
  • Summer Lull Salads
  • That Roman Feast
  • Remodel Redux
  • Déjà vu, Déjà Voodoo
  • One Good Egg

Artful Living

  • Fred Gonsowski Garden Home
  • Kylie M Interiors
  • Laurel Bern Interiors
  • Lee Abbamonte
  • Mid-Century Modern Remodel
  • Ripple Effects
  • The Creativity Exchange
  • The Task at Hand
  • Tongue in Cheek
  • Zen & the Art of Tightrope Walking

Family ~ Now & Then

  • Chronicling America
  • Family
  • Kyle West
  • Pieces of Reese's Life
  • Vermont Digital Newspaper Project

Food for Life!

  • Elizabeth Minchilli in Rome
  • Manger
  • Once Upon a Chef
  • The Everyday French Chef

Literary Spaces

  • A Striped Armchair
  • Dolce Bellezza
  • Lit Salad
  • Living with Literature
  • Marks in the Margin
  • So Many Books
  • The Millions

the Garden, the Garden

  • An Obsessive Neurotic Gardener
  • Potager
  • Red Dirt Ramblings

Archives

Categories

  • Far Away Places
  • Good Reads
  • Home Restoration
  • In the Garden
  • In the Kitchen
  • Life at Home
  • Mesta Park
  • Prayer
  • Soul Care
  • The Great Outdoors
  • Writing

Meta

  • Create account
  • Log in
  • Entries feed
  • Comments feed
  • WordPress.com

Blog at WordPress.com.

Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy
  • Subscribe Subscribed
    • an everyday life
    • Join 89 other subscribers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • an everyday life
    • Subscribe Subscribed
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
 

Loading Comments...